


Control

by LindsayBay



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fellatio, M/M, Slash, Uncircumcised Penis, Woodbury (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayBay/pseuds/LindsayBay
Summary: The Governor has his hooks deep inside Merle Dixon in a way no one else ever has.





	Control

The Governor sat at his desk, steepling his fingers. “What have you got to report to me, Dixon?”

Merle stood at attention, the way that was drilled into him during boot camp so many years ago. “We wiped out almost the entire camp. Got us a transport, some guns, and a whole lotta ammunition. There are two survivors, but one’s gut-shot. Probably won’t last the night.”

“Good.” Phillip Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Is there anything more?”

It was damn near supernatural the way the Governor was able to sense people’s thoughts. Merle had been ruminating all the way back to Woodbury, wondering why he and the men under his command had to kill nearly everyone in that military encampment. Surely some of them would have been assets to Woodbury? Why was Merle kept around for his decades-old military experience while people fresh out of training had to die? “No, ain’t nothin’ else,” was all he said.

The Governor stood up and walked toward Merle. “You don’t feel any doubts about what we’re doing here, do you?” He moved so close that Merle could feel the heat of his body. He laid one hand one Merle’s shoulder.

“ ‘Course not, Governor.”

“Good. Good. But I have to say, I worry sometimes.” His other hand went to Merle’s chin, fingernails playfully scratching at the beard stubble there. “That maybe you’re not one hundred percent with me. I would be so disappointed if that were to be the case.”

The Governor had a way of boring into a person, of finding where they were weak, where they were needy. He gazed into Merle’s eyes and it was as if he pushed aside every wall, every defense. He wormed his way through Merle’s hard, prickly exterior, probing until he found what Merle had hidden so well that sometimes he forgot those parts of himself had ever existed.  

“Your loyalty means a lot to me,” Phillip said softly. His face expressed nothing but warmth, concern. He dropped his hands, backed away, leaving Merle yearning for more of his touch. “So, do you think this makes it look crowded in here?” He indicated a brown leather couch studded with brass fittings. “I mean, there’s already so much in this space.” Merle raised his eyebrows. The man wanted to talk about furniture? Really? Phillip flopped down on to the couch and patted the space beside him. “Sit.”

That damn couch was, by far, the most expensive item Merle has ever parked his ass on. It squeaked a bit but was nice and cushy. Phillip leaned forward, pouring whiskey from the decanter on the coffee table. He handed the glass to Merle, then poured another for himself. Merle could tell with one sip that it was top shelf stuff. After the rotgut he had practically been weaned on, it was like drinking cider. Still, the alcohol soon began to spread its warmth through his body.

Phillip set his glass down and moved closer. He put a hand on Merle’s cheek, who closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I know I’m tough on you sometimes, Merle, but that’s just because I want you to be able to finally live up to your potential. You are so much more than you know.” His voice was a soft, intimate purr. Merle put his face in the crook of Phillip’s neck, inhaling the scent of his Hugo Boss cologne. The feel of two arms sliding around him, hands caressing his back, make him weak with pleasure.

It’s not anything real, Merle told himself. He’d read a magazine article that said it was just a release of chemicals in the brain. Oxytocin. That’s what it was. A word strangely close to Oxycontin. Both were powerfully addictive drugs. But no matter how much he told himself that these emotions meant nothing, they sure as hell felt like something. He embraced Phillip, having to restrain himself from squeezing too hard. His hand clutched at the other man’s shoulder.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the clock ticked the final hour of the afternoon. Every time Phillip stroked Merle’s hair or laid a small kiss on his neck, Merle was stripped further and further down, until his emotional core was laid bare: the boy who craved affection and approval, and who went into hiding decades ago.

Phillip’s lips moved to Merle’s mouth. Soft little kisses. Slow, lingering kisses. Merle had been a promiscuous man, but there had never been much tenderness in his couplings. Being kissed like this was nearly unbearable; there was an intimacy to it that none of Merle’s one-hour stands came even close to having. His pulse sped up, he broke out in a light sweat, his groin tightened. When Phillip’s tongue found its way between his lips, Merle gasped. He grasped the back of the other man’s head, not wanting him to ever stop. When Phillip nipped at his lower lip, Merle let out a small moan.

Their kisses grew deeper, hungrier. Phillip laid a hand on the erection tenting the front of Merle’s cargo pants and Merle thought his heart would pound its way right out of his chest. Phillip pressed his palm rhythmically against Merle’s hard length, making his hips buck. It’s was like being a teenager again, this desire that was nearly painful. Without breaking the kiss, Phillip undid the pants button and eased the zipper down, then wrapped his hand firmly around Merle’s cock, giving it a squeeze. Merle felt himself pulse and twitch.

When Phillip pulled away, Merle let out a tiny whine, missing the feel of his mouth already. Phillip pushed the coffee table away, slid off the couch, and got down on his knees. Merle felt a flash of his cocky side when Phillip parted his thighs and got between them, grasping Merle’s erection again. He knew he had a beautiful cock, long and uncut. Phillip licked it slowly up and down and Merle was at his mercy again.

Until he came to Woodbury, Merle had always thought that the person performing fellatio was in a subservient position. But what Phillip did to him… His tongue moved at a leisurely pace, just enough to keep Merle at a fever of arousal without getting close to putting him over the edge, tracing the blue veins that ran the length of Merle’s dick, then licking and lightly sucking at his balls.

Phillip licked his fingers and gently pushed Merle’s foreskin down. Merle sucked in his breath. The head of his cock was so sensitized that the feel of Phillip’s breath hitting it made Merle tense his thighs. There was a pause. “Please,” Merle rasped, anticipating the sensation of the other man’s tongue on the purple, precum-slicked tip. Instead, Phillip opened his mouth wide and slid it slowly up and down Merle’s erection, managing not to touch the head.

Merle growled and put his hands on Phillip’s head. Immediately, the other man stopped what he was doing, lifting up his head. “Behave yourself,” he chided.

“Please.” It was more of an animal noise than a word.

“Do you promise to be good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I swear, just,  _please_ ,” Merle pleaded.

Phillip lowered his face toward Merle’s lap again. He wrapped his lips around Merle’s cock, moving the foreskin up and down with the bobbing of his head while he fondled and lightly tugged at Merle’s balls. It felt  _so good_ , but Merle desperately wanted to climax. He imagined face-fucking Phillip, coming all over his face. Merle moaned, his thighs starting to shake. Phillip paused in his movements and squeezed the base of Merle’s cock. The message was clear:  _not yet_.

Merle’s head fell against the back of the couch, his fingers digging into padded leather. All he could do was submit.

Phillip started licking him like he was an ice cream cone, tongue moving faster but still avoiding the head. When Merle’s thighs started to quiver again, Phillip did the orgasm-delaying squeeze and slowed down. This went on for what felt like an eternity, an agony of pleasure. When Phillip’s tongue finally touched the head of Merle’s erection, just a tiny little stroke, Merle cried out to God as his whole body jerked. Phillip licked it in slow circles, then swirled his tongue in the hole. He pumped one hand up and down on Merle’s shaft as his soft, silky tongue licked, licked, licked at the tip. Merle could feel his orgasm building, a long, shivering tingle that suddenly surged and exploded in an intensity he had never felt before. He was crying out, but he had no idea what he was saying.

He was brought back to himself by the Governor tucking him back into his pants and zipping him back up. Phillip took a handkerchief out of a pocket, spat into it fastidiously, and wiped his mouth and chin. “I think I should question those two men you brought in now.”

“But don’t you want me to…” Merle put a hand on the Governor’s crotch. The man was erect, but he was still maddeningly in control, his breathing steady, his face barely flushed. Merle wanted to make him beg, make him shake, make him lose himself.

“No. I’ve got things to do. Good night, Dixon.” He kissed Merle lightly on the lips.

It was as clear as if the Governor had said the words:  _You need me more than I need you, Dixon_.


End file.
